


Gold

by ladyofrosefire



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Campaign 02 (Critical Role), Cock Piercing, M/M, Manhandling, Nipple Piercings, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-06 03:07:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13402119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofrosefire/pseuds/ladyofrosefire
Summary: Written for the kinkmeme because I have no self control"Molly/Fjord or Molly/Caleb, piercingsThere's no way Molly doesn't have more than just his horns pierced. Someone give me this, please."





	Gold

Mollymauk-- and the hell kind of a name is that, anyway?-- has been badgering him since they got him out of prison. On and off, sure, but that isn’t doing much to soothe the irritation. The man’s wandering around their table, telling some story Fjord really isn’t listening to. The light of the hearth catches on the various bits and baubles hanging from his curved horns. That, the coat, the flicking tail-- he’s all moment and performance calculated to capture the eye. Knowing it’s all an act doesn’t make it any less irritating. Fjord barely resists swatting at that tail as it swings past again.

Slowly, the others go up. Caleb and Jester first, with Jester chattering about getting him to bathe. Then Nott, mask in place. Yasha looks at Molly, and then leaves without a word. Beau trails after her.

“Well, I think someone’s going to be happy in the morning.” Molly grins.

Fjord huffs and shifts in his chair. He could leave. His cup and plate are empty, his meal paid for. But he remains staring into the fire, trying to ignore the flicks of gold and silk and lavender at the corner of his vision.

“You have to have noticed.” Molly leans against the table next to him, tail swishing back and forth like a cat’s.

“Noticed what?”

Fjord is not fond of cats.

“Your friend and my friend. They’re… friendly.”

“Uh huh.

The damn tail swings by right in front of his nose. As it swings back, Fjord grabs it. Slowly, he turns his head and looks up into Molly’s smirking face.

“You want somethin’?”

That makes him blink. “Clever, but not insightful.” He observes, almost to himself. Then he bends down and kisses Fjord very firmly on the mouth.

It’s not a good kiss. Fjord startles, and there’s some unfortunate knocking of teeth and he almost knocks his forehead on Molly’s left horn. He drops Molly’s tail.

“What the hell.”

“It’s called a kiss.”

“That was barely a kiss.”

“Oh, really? Want to do better?” Molly leans right into his space, that grin firmly in place.

He has very sharp incisors, bright white and breaking up the line of that showman’s smile. Fjord’s gonna blame that for the stupid decision he knows he’s making. He takes Molly by the horns, leans up, and kisses him for all he’s worth. They end up on their feet with Mollymauk’s back against the hot stones of the fireplace. The heat doesn’t seem to bother Molly in the slightest. Fjord drops his hands to Molly’s trim waist.

“M’I takin’ you upstairs?” He asks.

“Please do.”

He almost backs out on the way up to his room. But, well, he’s come this far. He’ll call it morbid curiosity and not talk about it in the morning. He has the space to himself, right across the hall from Beau and Jester’s room. Fjord crowds Mollymauk up against the door as he fumbles it open, and then follows him inside. The door slams shut under a too-forceful kick and stays closed. Fjord would have been happy to just keep going from there, but Molly stops to light a couple candles.

“Mood lighting?”

“The visual’s half the fun.”

He huffs again, but can’t really argue. Molly’s a showy son of a, but he’s pretty, and he’s catching the light. Fjord takes him by the waist again and tugs him back. The tail gets in the way, but he stays, rutts up against the tight curve of Molly’s ass, bites at his neck until he bruises darker under all that purple. He can feel the ridges of scars under his tongue. He takes his time to explore them as he unties Molly’s robe and jacket. Fancy as it is, it’s almost surprisingly easy to pull off and drop to the floor. Once he’s down to a shirt and those ridiculous pants, Mollymauk tugs free from his hold, turns and starts on the buckles and straps of Fjord’s armor.

There’s nothing sexy about getting out of armor, but they manage it, exchanging biting kisses from time to time.

Mollymauk’s noisy, too. Each time Fjord directs him, tugging on a horn, his hair, his hips, he gets a soft sound. He’s not the strongest, he knows, but, shit, it feels nice anyway. So once they both have their boots off-- and Molly’s thigh-high things had been a job and a half-- Fjord picks him up and half tosses him onto the mattress. He has about half a second to wonder if the bed’s going to give out before it doesn’t and Molly is laughing and pulling his shirt over his head. There are more scars, and more tattoos. It’s the wink of metal that catches Fjord’s attention. He props himself up with a knee between Mollymauk’s thighs and a hand by his shoulder and leans in to investigate. There’s a set of short, gold bars, right through his nipples, with a little bead on either end.

“Well shit…” He muses.

Fjord rubs a finger over one and Molly groans-- full-throated, shameless, showy. So Fjord does it again and gets a pleased, low sound in response. There’s a ring in his navel, too. He catches it with his finger, ignores Molly’s squirming, and ducks down to flick it with his tongue. He gets a flex and wriggle for his trouble, and a very insistent hand dragging at his hair.

“You were doing so well.”

Fjord takes hold of the little ring and pulls, just a little. “Shut it.”

He’s not going to rip the thing out, but really. It doesn’t seem to matter. Molly goes perfectly still, and then lets out the kind of noise that makes a man worry about his partner’s sanity. But he kind had that feeling already. So he lowers his head to toy with one of the little bars and brings his fingers up to the other one. That earns him a steady stream of curses and encouragement. Molly’s fingers twist tight into Fjord’s hair. He reaches up, pulls the hand away, and pins it to the mattress.

“You’re a pushy little shit, you know that?” He mutters before catching Molly’s nipple in his teeth and giving it a firm tug.

Molly arches, tosses his head back. “Oh _fuck_ , yeah, well. S’working, though, isn’t it.”

“I can stop.”

Molly’s legs immediately lock around his waist. He’s stronger than he looks, and he tips them both in the narrow bed. For a moment, they’re face to face, Mollymauk’s red eyes gleaming in the dim light. Then Fjord drags his shirt over his head, breaking the stare. It lands on the floor and Molly starts on his belt. He presses a palm to the front of his pants, strokes, tugs open the the laces. Molly’s take longer to work out, what with how they’re cut to accommodate that ever-flicking tail. Eventually, they peel them off and toss them aside. Fjord looks down and sees more metal.

“You’re fuckin’ with me.”

“You know I was hoping it’d be the other way around, but that’s alright, too.”

Fjord doesn’t bother to dignify that with a response. He’s a bit too preoccupied examining the metal in Molly’s cock. The sight makes something twist low in his stomach in a way that isn’t all one thing. There’s a curved bar right at the head, hooked through some places he knows are sensitive on him, and probably are on Tieflings, too. More, and he’s almost afraid to count how many, running up the underside like the rungs of a ladder. Carefully, he runs one finger up them. Molly lets out a whine. That noise makes up his mind, and the knot of arousal and apprehension resolves itself. He strokes, slow and firm, and watches the way Molly tenses all over, eyes falling shut, pointed canines digging into his lower lip. His mouth drops open as Fjord rubs his thumb around the piercing at the head of his cock. When he takes his hand away, Molly’s breath comes out in a sharp whine.

“You got-- um--” He rubs his fingers together.

“Mm. Yes.” Nimbly, Molly climbs over him to get back to his coat. The thing apparently has a number of little pockets and he pulls a vial out of one of them.  “I’ll do this part. You keep your hands busy.”

Normally, he might protest, but if he’s ever going to appreciate Mollymauk’s showiness, this would be the place. Fjord lets him get himself situated comfortably, and then reaches out to get better acquainted with those little bits of gold. And it showy. Molly swears and writhes and grinds down against his fingers. His tail wraps tight around Fjord’s wrist at one point, the end of it still flicking back and forth. Fjord gives one of the bars a firmer flick in response. It turns into a feedback loop. Molly moves in time with the rub and tug of his fingers and eggs Fjord on, baring his teeth and his throat and arching into his touch. Molly stops once he’s three fingers in, shiny with the contents of that vial. Fjord still presses his fingers in, just to be sure, and has to bite back a groan. He’s hot, hotter than Fjord expected, and slick. He’s a showy bastard, sure, but damn if it doesn’t work for him.

Molly takes advantage of his distraction to push him none-too-gently onto his back. He blinks, and then cries out as Molly’s mouth, with its pointed teeth, sinks down on his cock. Then Molly tugs Fjord’s hand to his head. And shit, he’s not going to ignore an invitation like that. He grabs onto those glittering horns and grinds into his mouth. And if the noise that rumbles from his chest sounds more like a growl than anything, well, that’s fine. Molly pushes off, eventually, gives him a parting lick, and sits back to swipe the back of one hand across his mouth.

“Get the fuck up here.” Fjord beckons.

Molly’s quick to-- well, not obey. There’s nothing obedient in the curve of his grin or the grace with which he moves up Fjord’s body. And sure, he knows it’s at least partly still an act. But damn if he isn’t beautiful-- shadows on his purple skin and sparks of gold showing him just where to touch. Fjord gets one hand on his hip, fingers digging into his ass, and reaches up to play with one nipple bar with the other. Molly lines him up, tips his head back, and rocks down like they have all the time in the world. That patience lasts for about two more seconds. Then Molly’s moving on top of him, as pretty a picture as those girls they saw bending themselves into knots at the circus. Prettier, with the sounds he’s making and the way his nails, sharper than they should be, but not quite claws yet, rake down Fjord’s chest. He gives as good as he gets, thrusting up into him, tugging on the piercings in Molly’s nipples, flicking the ring in his navel. He rubs a thumb up and down the ladder in his cock and gets an almost animal whine for his trouble. Molly goes vise-tight around him. Fjord keeps that up, watches Molly’s composure shatter, the drive of his hips turn hungry, greedier, rhythm choppy. Fjord doesn’t let up when he spills over Fjord’s hand and his stomach. He just tips Molly onto his back, hikes one of his legs up and fucks him hard and deep. He’s a bendy thing, takes the stretch without complaint and digs his heel into Fjord’s back. He comes with his teeth at Molly’s unmarked shoulder and leaves a bruise that stands out as starkly as any of his tattoos.

He’s slow and careful about pulling out, easing Molly’s leg back down. Then Fjord lets himself flop face-down on the mattress for a minute or so. He catches his breath, waits for his limbs to feel a little more like they belong to him again. When he’s sure he isn’t going to stumble on the way up, he pushes himself to his feet.

“Hang a sec.”

“Mmm?”

When he turns to look, Molly’s stretching like a cat, eyes closed, still a damn mess, with maybe the most genuine smile Fjord’s seen from him all over his face. It’s also smug as shit, but he’s in a good mood right now, too. So he wets a cloth from his water skin, makes a note to refill it, and brings it back to the bed. Molly lets out a very satisfying squawk when it touches his stomach.

“Just a sec.”

Molly cracks one eye open. “Aren’t you a gentleman.”

“Well some of us have manners.” Fjord mutters.

“But you’re not going to let me stay.”

It sounds like a challenge, one where there’s no way to win. Fjord considers kicking him out, but can’t quite talk himself into it. So he nudges Mollymauk’s sprawling limbs until there’s enough space, dumps the dirty cloth on the floor to deal with in the morning, and settles himself into bed.

“Try anything funny…”

“Mmmhm.” The damn tail comes up and taps him on the mouth. “Message received.”

Molly is very warm against his back, and he can feel the brush of those little bars with each breath. Fjord sighs and does his best to ignore them. At least for the next couple hours.

**Author's Note:**

> Boy oh boy I do not like posting fic when I don't have a damn clue what these characters are going to really be like but I saw this prompt and kind of Had To.
> 
> Aunt Zelda has made an excellent case for the value of fanfic written early, so I'll be leaving this up and cackling while canon turns all my characterization choices inside out.


End file.
